The door creaked open. Looking inside, Dean gasped when a sheer drop appeared before him. He was looking out of a doorway that seemed to be placed high in a room that was rather small but so tall he could see neither the roof nor the floor. Doors similar to the one he had just opened lined the stone walls, both above and below.
Sighing with frustration, he backed away, closed the door, and turned his back on it.
"Spiraling hallways here, bottomless pits there. Whoever designed this place must have gotten into Layota's herbs!" He muttered to himself..
He continued down the particular endless corridor he had found himself in. After leaving Tatiana, he decided to go for a walk to clear his mind. Until recently, nothing had mattered to him except reading the books Tatiana gave him and experiencing the terrible lives within. Unlike the version of himself in the books, he had no desire to help or rescue those within. It was impossible for him. Saving others wasn't the reason he was here. That aside, they were nothing but fictional characters, completely unrelated to him.
However, what he had just seen in the mote of light; Addi's memories, had shaken him to his core.
The scenes flashed in his mind like distant memories when he touched the mote of white light. He remembered touching a similar light before reading Nicolas' book that had shown him a girl surrounded by flames. He had no idea what any of these visions meant, and he shouldn't really care so much. The reason he was here in this nightmarish place was his alone, and the motes of light were unrelated to that.
He ought to forget them and return to his reading. As long as he was doing that, nothing else really mattered. The memories still bothered him as he turned around and walked back the way he came.
The only problem was that now he wasn't sure if he could find his way back. He looked back over his shoulder. The door with the bottomless pit had faded into darkness and would likely not be there if he turned back. What little light he had seemed to come from nowhere and was drab and dim compared to the natural light shown in Tatiana's stories. It only ever seemed to illuminate his immediate vicinity, tapering off after twenty meters or so.
He continued onward, his mind still unsettled.
Who were those people in the story? Who were Addi and Matin? Who were Rosetta, Maria and Nicolas? Well, to put it simply, they were his friends, or at least the friends he had within the stories. As far as the current him was concerned, they were as Tatiana had said; nothing but fictional characters. If they died, they'd be back in the next story with no memories or past traumas. With each iteration, they became completely different people. Strangers.
Whenever he joined with the book version of himself, however, they became something much more important to him. Those memories and thoughts were slowly becoming part of him here. Also, there was that look in Addi's eyes. The way she had stared at him as she took her last breath. What he felt in that moment was nothing like the experience of watching a character die. If he were to act on the assumption that they were as real as he was then, what was he to do? This hellish place was for him and him alone.
His thoughts were so distracting that he failed to notice a difference in the room he had just absentmindedly entered. He jumped slightly as someone greeted him, knocking him out of his reverie.
"Ah! An old fossil has barged in! Do you know how rude to interrupt someone while they're reading? Well, no matter. How goes the eternal punishment?"
Dean blinked and thought that his mind must be playing tricks on him. The words that had reached his ears were just that incomprehensible.
He looked around and found himself in a cozy-looking living room of sorts. A fire roared in a fancy marble fireplace on one side, and bookshelves lined the rest of the walls. In the center of the room was a collection of furniture scattered around, seemingly at random: a few sofas and armchairs, all draped in velvet of different colors. The coffee tables that separated them were of similar high quality, their dark wood shone in the light emitted by the fire.
Wait. Shone?
Dean had to do a double take. There was light in this room, natural light with a warm, orange color. His mouth almost dropped to the floor.
"Hey! You know what happens to people who ignore me, you miscreant?"
Dean's eyes shot back towards the mint-green sofa where he found the owner of the voice. She lounged on the sofa with a black book in her hand. She was little more than a child with similarly mint-green curly hair and an old-fashioned blue frilly dress. It brought to Dean's mind a character from some gaudy puppet show. She looked up at him in apparent annoyance.
"Wait, who are you calling a fossil?" He asked, knowing that his reaction to her greeting was comically slow.
The girl's eyes sharpened further.
"You are! I don't like looking or talking to old things. Wait a second, I'll fix you right up."
She bounced up onto her feet and ran towards him. Before he could even react to her words, she placed her hand on his. He felt something shift, and the girl became taller. No, that wasn't quite right. He was getting shorter. He felt a sharp pain and heard cracking as his bones and joints rearranged themselves and parts of him were crushed into nothingness. Screaming, he fell to his knees and noticed that his hands had gotten much smaller and smoother.
"There, much better!" the girl said, nodding in satisfaction.
Dean's breath quickened as he quickly glanced from his hands to his feet.
"W-what did you do to me?" he asked.
He wished he hadn't spoken at all because, upon hearing his own voice, he noticed something else that was completely off. It had become much more high pitched, resembling the voice of a child. The strange girl, who was now at eye level with him, looked at him with confusion.
"Isn't it obvious?" she asked. "I made you more pleasing to look at. Well? Where's my thanks?"
Without waiting for an answer, she turned on her heels and plopped herself back down on the couch. Dean had to grab onto his adult-sized trousers to prevent them from falling down around his ankles.
"Thank you for what? Shrinking me?" He asked through gritted teeth as he stood there awkwardly.
The change within him did much more than simply shrink him. He felt a distinct wrongness, as if his very sense of self had been altered and violated. His mind felt…different. He couldn't think as well as he could before, and he felt much more emotional. In fact, he felt like he was about to start crying.
The girl giggled as she watched him panic.
"Absolutely!" she said with a sweet smile. "You're much cuter now, although you could do with a change of clothes."
He gave up trying to fix his clothes and sat down on a nearby armchair. As long as he was sitting, he didn't have to worry about his trousers falling down.
"Where is this place? Who are you?" he asked once his mind had calmed down a little.
The girl shot him an angry look.
"Where is my gratitude, you damn fly?"
The sudden screeching voice that came from her mouth made Dean shrink back into his chair. For a moment it felt as if even the room itself had shrunk and the light of the fire had dimmed. Dean's mind worked on defensive reflex before he could react in any other way.
"Thanks, thank you," he blabbered quickly, his voice fearful.
The girl's furious gaze softened instantly, and she reverted to her cheerful smile.
"You're welcome. You may call me Cythia by the way. I'm a reader at the moment, just like yourself, and this is the reading room set aside for those of us who have deigned to visit this little backwater."
"I see," Dean said.
That was a lie.
He understood next to nothing of what she had said, but decided not to ruffle her feathers any more than necessary. The best thing he could do was cut the conversation short and leave. Her mood seemed to flip with the slightest provocation. He couldn't exactly pinpoint why, but this girl was dangerous. He took a moment to take another look around, and when he turned back to Cythia she was standing in front of him, eyes staring directly into his. Her irises were gold. How had she appeared in front of him so suddenly?
"Something's been bothering you a great deal, oh you poor thing. Why don't you tell me about it?" she said, her voice now sounding kindly.
Slowly, she reached a hand up and touched his cheek. Then, she began to move her finger in circles. Dean tried to lean away, but she hissed at him, causing him to freeze.
"Ah, you discovered a memory. How interesting! Yep, yep no wonder you're all out of sorts."
Smiling, she took her hand away, allowing Dean to sigh in relief.
"A memory?" he asked cautiously.
Cythia nodded.
"That shining mote of light that came from the dead girl, that was a memory. They're not too uncommon in places like this. They usually leak out of people when they're not careful about keeping them inside. You get it?"
He didn't, and so he shook his head. Cythia sighed and placed her hands on her hips.
"Honestly, you freshlings are such work. You're even worse than the writer."
"You mean Tatiana? Wait, what's a freshling?" Dean asked.
"Yep. She learned quicker than most and has already started to make her own worlds. I'm finding them quite enjoyable, for works written by a total newbie." she said, turning to look at the black book which was now resting on the sofa.
"Are those memory things the same as the black books?" Dean asked.
In his mind, they were both roughly the same. Both of them seemed to show him something, though the memories seemed much shorter and more fragmented than the books.
"Oh no, they're a little different. Memories are like a single apple slice, while the books are like the whole apple pie. The memories are pure and unaltered, if a bit small, while the books are big and have been changed with a lot of things added in. Like sugar and spice."
Dean furrowed his brow as he tried to understand the explanation.
"So what you're saying is that the memories are small pieces of the books?" He asked.
"No, no, no, no!" Cythia replied, stamping her feet. "They're like an apple you grew yourself, and the books are like pies made by someone else! How are you not getting this?"
Dean sighed. He regretted asking this strange girl anything now. What kind of obsession did she have with apples? She probably knew herself what she was talking about, but was subconsciously using a code that involved apples. She didn't have to look at him as if he were an imbecile.
"The memories are very important to the person they come from, while books are for everyone to enjoy and partake in. They're a world unto themselves, surely you've felt it yourself, right? The personal touch of the memories, as if you were invading someone's very heart?" She asked, her voice calming somewhat.
Dean nodded. That made a little more sense. At least the explanation didn't involve apples.
Every time he entered a book, he felt as if he were seeing that world through the eyes of whichever person was the point of view character. He became that person for a time. Yet, there was still a sense of being an observer, looking in from the outside, that returned once he came back to Tatiana's world. These two perspectives, different as can be, were pulling him in opposite directions and tearing his mentality in twain. Who was he and what mattered to him? The more he read, the more those questions bothered him.
While he was trying to make sense of all this new information, Cythia had once again returned to her reading. As he watched her, Dean noticed her breathing rather deeply as she read with a large smile.
"That book you're reading, is that one of Tatiana's books?" he asked.
The black cover was an obvious tell, but he wanted confirmation from the girl herself.
"Indeed, it is," Cythia replied absentmindedly.
Someone else was here, reading those books. Dean had thought he was the only one. He should have been the only one. Relief and worry battled for dominance within his mind. Was this girl being subjected to the same horrors he was? She didn't look like she was suffering in any way. She was enjoying herself.
"There… there shouldn't be anyone else. Those books are mine to experience. They're dangerous." he muttered.
The events contained within the pages were experienced as if one were a living, breathing being within that setting. Considering the content, they were not something a child should read for any reason. They were his alone to suffer through.
Cythia laughed. She laughed so hard that the book fell from her hands and smacked down onto the floor below.
"Are you concerned about me?" she asked. "Well, you shouldn't be. You see, I get enjoyment from reading Tatiana's. No, not only that. You could say it's what keeps me alive, the only reason I'm able to go on existing."
Dean could make little sense of what he was hearing. Were they even reading the same books? Perhaps Tatiana had given her different stories to read.
"That girl's books amuse me. Watching you all run about like terrified headless chickens and slowly dying off one by one has been quite entertaining, I have to say."
Dean's smile faltered. So she was reading the same material. Was she becoming a character like he was? If so, then who was she?
"Y-you think the books are enjoyable?" he whispered.
"Ohoh? Does that irk you? Being offended is all well and good, but why don't you direct that animosity towards the author? It does little to cry to a fellow reader. Like not peeling an apple before eating it."
Cythia leaned forward and looked him right in the eyes, that smile of hers not faltering for a moment.
"If the books bother you so much, why don't you torture her, kill her over and over again until she stops? Until her very soul itself is ground to dust?"
Dean felt his eyes widen and lips part in shock. Was she suggesting he attack Tatiana? He remembered when she had splattered his body all over the cave wall for mentioning Cait. What could he possibly do to a being with such power? That aside, he needed her.
"No, I need her to write. If she's not here, then I'd lose my reason for existing here." he said, trying to keep his voice calm.
Cythia had mentioned how those books were keeping her alive. He didn't know if she was merely being poetic, but he felt that in his case, it was very true. With his memories lost over a painfully long existence, his addiction to her stories was something he barely understood, but it was most certainly there.
Cythia looked down at the black book at her feet for a moment and then, raising her foot, she stamped down on it hard.
"Why? She could always be replaced, you know. Perhaps you could replace her," she said. "These books are merely entertainment, nothing more. All it would take is another great one with enough energy and will to produce more of them"
"Replace her?" he asked, his eyes fixed eagerly on the book below Cythia's feet.
"You could. If you can create something that satisfies me, that is!" Cythia laughed. "Not that I think you can in your current pathetic state."
Dean's back stiffened. Cythia's bright golden eyes were forcing fear right into his very soul. He couldn't tell why, but there was something off about the girl, and he felt the sudden urge to be away like the wind. He donned a stiff smile and rose to his feet.
"Well, this conversation has been rather lovely, but I think it's time I was off. I've a book of my own to read, you see." he said.
He looked down at himself, realizing he was still in that boyish body she had somehow transformed him into.
"W-would you mind turning me back to how I was before?" he asked with a polite smile.
"What, you don't wanna play with me or keep me company for a while?" Cythia asked, looking up at him with big round eyes.
No, he didn't want that. His instincts were telling him that if he were to stay any longer, he would be in grave danger.
"Sorry, maybe next time?"
Cythia sniffed.
"There's no need for me to change you back. Just imagine yourself looking as you did before, and you'll change back no problem. Now that I'm no longer imposing that image onto you. Just do me the favor and leave right after. I can't stand looking at the rotting apples that are old people," she said in a bored tone.
Dean's eyes narrowed but did as she instructed. He let out a soft gasp as his perspective snapped back to normal. He looked at his arms, legs, and hands and confirmed that he was back in his usual body.
"How?" he asked.
"Willpower," Cythia drawled as if it were the most obvious thing in the world before holding out her hand above the book on the ground. It flew up into her grasp without her having to bend down and pick it up.
"Anything is possible here as long as you have the will to create it," she finished, returning to her seat.
"I see. Well, I'll be off then," Dean said, not wanting to spend another moment with this strange girl. Better to avoid troublesome things, ignorance being bliss and all that.
Cythia didn't answer and simply looked at him with a raised eyebrow. Taking that as permission to leave, he made a small, awkward bow and turned his back on her. The pressure he felt at his back only served to quicken his steps. As he reached his hands towards the doorknob, he expected something bad to happen and hesitated slightly. Thankfully, she let him leave in peace.
He left the room and found himself in an endless corridor he was sure differed from the one he had entered from, and sighed. Finding Tatiana and the book in the first place was going to be a challenge. Going back to ask Cythia was an option, but he didn't want to risk it.
"No problem, I just gotta wander around til I find it again. Easy as could be," he said aloud to himself in an effort to calm his nerves.
As he walked down the corridor, he felt a strange sensation in his legs. He ignored it, thinking it must have been because of the stress he had felt while interacting with Cythia.
After a couple more steps, however, he noticed that the windows along the corridor were growing taller as he walked. Curious, he stared at them for a moment. Once he had confirmed that nothing strange was going on, he continued on his way. That was until he passed by a certain window with a certain green-haired girl sitting on its ledge.
She was leaning forward with a hand on her chin, staring at him with a cheerful smile. She didn't say a word. Dean swallowed deeply, trying to keep his composure. It felt as if he were a zoo animal being observed by a curious visitor.
"Are you following me or something? Sorry, I'm not interested in playing with kids today," he said in a dismissive tone.
Cythia said nothing and simply continued to smile and stare at him. Dean bit his lip and continued to walk, quickening his pace this time. Was it just him, or was the door at the end of the corridor getting further and further away? At the same time, the windows themselves only continued to grow larger and larger. He was sure now that it wasn't his imagination
With a growing sense of foreboding, Dean quickened his pace again to the point where he was almost running. As he did so, he felt his trousers once again loosen around his waist. He reached out to pull them up but found his sleeves to be completely covering his hands.
"Hey, hey. I thought we were done with this trick," he shouted.
Once again he approached a window and once again Cythia was sitting there, staring at him in silence with wide, anticipating eyes. He moved forward, trying to put her out of his mind.
He had to get to thedoor in front of him. However, it only seemed to get further away the more he ran towards it. Where was he going again? Oh, right, Tatiana. Where had he been? Oh yes, the reading room. He stopped and pinched the bridge of his nose. It was becoming difficult to think straight.
He turned around and saw the doorway to the reading room only about thirty meters away. It shouldn't have been that close. He had been running for a while now. Fear welled up from inside, and his stomach began to tighten. He turned back and started sprinting down the corridor.
Every so often, he would pass a window with Cythia sitting on the ledge. She now seemed almost giddy and was inhaling deeply whenever he passed by. The smile never left her face, and she didn't respond to anything he said to her.
Something grabbed his forearm. He looked to the right to find a large, shadowy hand protruding from the wall. He screamed and yanked his small arm away.
"Won't you stay with me and play a little longer? You look so cute now."
The voice of a scary girl whose name he could no longer remember whispered into his ear as tears streamed down his face.
"Mother? Where are you? Mother?" he whimpered, his childlike voice no longer surprising him.
He wanted to go home. Where was he? Where was mother?
The door lay ahead, far away and forever unreachable. He turned back in the direction he came. Was that where his mother was? His big brother and sister? He wanted to see them, so he turned back.
At that moment, it appeared. Crawling through the door he had turned to, it stood on five pointy legs, somewhat like a spider. All black, it resembled a crawling shadow, though it had a featureless human face protruding from its spherical carapace. It paused when it saw him and then leapt into motion running towards him at great speed, its spindly feet clacking on the wooden floor.
Dean screamed even as he turned to flee. In the distance, he could hear a girl laughing out loud. He had to get away. The door at the other end of the corridor still refused to get closer. He was openly screaming for his mother now. Little more than a toddler, he could barely stay on his own two feet.
Slowly, the door was getting closer. He was crawling now, no longer able to walk.
"Just a little further, can you make it? Can you? Can you?"
It was too far. He could hear the clacking noise of the crawling creature become louder and louder as it got closer to him. He swore he could feel its breath on the back of his neck. The door was still much too far away.
This was it. He was going to be eaten.
"What have we here? A guest asserting her own will in a place that's not her own?"
The sudden, composed voice seemed to bring everything to a halt. Dean heard an annoyed click of the tongue from someone else in the room. He turned around and saw no sign of the creature that had been pursuing him. Instead, a tall lady wrapped in a hooded robe stood staring at a smaller lady with green hair. At the robed lady's side was a tall man with long blond hair and sparkling black robes.
"His isn't a soul to be toyed with, Cythia." The blond man was saying in a calm voice.
The girl called Cythia looked crestfallen as she bowed her head.
"I know, I just wanted to play with him a little, is all," she said in a cute, high-pitched voice. "I get bored with just reading all the time, fun as it is."
The tall lady looked at Dean and then back at Cythia with a complicated expression. Cythia looked up at her and shrugged. At that moment, everything became smaller, and Dean's memories and mind instantly returned to normal. The shock of it all made him lose his footing, and he fell onto his hands and knees. Panting, he tried to make sense of what had just happened.
"I hope you haven't forgotten why he's here, Lady Cythia," Tatiana said, her voice stern but shaking slightly
Cythia's eyes narrowed at the taller woman as she crossed her arms.
"You must be bored indeed if you're now tormenting fellow readers?" the man said, crossing his arms with a small smile on his face.
Cythia was now visibly grinding her teeth. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
"I know, I know. I said I was sorry, didn't I? Why don't the two of you back off and stop bullying me? I know the rules better than any of you!"
As she spoke, Cythia's voice became high-pitched and frantic. It was difficult to see Tatiana's expression, but the blond man's smile only grew wider.
"You claim to know the rules better than I?" he asked.
Cythia's mouth dropped open as she spluttered some incomprehensible words. She then clenched her fists and took a deep breath to calm herself.
"They're not really rules anyway. Who gets off on bullying a small child, huh? Go eat an apple strudel!" she shouted before turning towards Dean.
"If you play with me a little longer, I might tell you more about this place. Maybe a way to get back at this gloomy girl over here?"
Dean heard a sharp intake of breath, though he couldn't tell whether it had come from Tatiana or the man. He was too busy thinking about Cythia's words. If she had appeared before him just a little sooner, he would have denied her outright. But now, he could feel his curiosity returning to him.
"How can I trust you'll keep your promise like that?" he asked.
"You can't. She'll either help or hinder you on a whim. it's impossible to know beforehand," the man said.
Cythia glanced at him. smiling daggers all the while.
"At least I don't trouble people by hiding my nature, Inquisitor Adalet," she said in a mocking tone.
So, Adalet was his name. Who was he and why was he with Tatiana? Had there always been others in this twisted monastery?
"You should be thankful that I do," Adalet replied with a smile of his own. "Things only get messy and bothersome when I start working, you should know this well, Cythia."
Cythia glared at him before sticking her tongue out. She turned to Dean, giving him a quizzical look.
"Well?"
Dean recalled his recent experience, and it didn't take long for him to shake his head.
"Sorry, but I'll have to decline for now. I'm working with enough lunatics as it is."
Nothing the girl had done so far had made her seem in any way trustworthy. It was better to stay well clear of her,
Cythia's eyes widened for a moment, and Dean feared he might have pushed his luck a little too far.
"Fine! I'm going back to the reading room. You guys do what you want and don't come crying to me later!" she said with tears in her eyes.
Having apparently said her piece, Cythia turned sharply back towards the reading room door, but not before pausing and looking back at Tatiana. She looked calm, even a little haughty, as she smiled at her.
"Let's have our talk later, shall we?"
Tatiana was silent for a moment before nodding with a confident smile.
"Indeed. My discussions with you are most delightful. I'll look forward to it."
Sticking her tongue out at everyone present, Cythia left, slamming the reading room door behind her.
As they had been talking, Dean got to his feet and took a moment to clear his head. Everything that had happened since his departure from the reading room had felt like a dream. Tatiana turned to him and smiled.
"Did being Cythia's plaything amuse you?" She asked.
Dean couldn't keep his expression neutral as he recalled his ordeal.
"Who was that…kid?" He asked, finding it difficult to find a word befitting the thing he had just met.
"Careful. She does not appreciate being called as such," Tatiana said, as she turned and walked towards the opposite door, gesturing Dean to follow.
"I think I will join Lady Cythia in the reading room," Adalet said, excusing himself.
"Certainly, please enjoy your stay," Tatiana replied with a polite bow.
"Wait, wait, wait. Who the hell are you?" Dean asked, his voice desperate.
Adalet turned to him and bowed.
"Adalet, inquisitor. If you want to know more, then please be patient."
With one last meaningful look at Dean, Adalet turned his back and followed Cythia.
"Who are all these strange people?" Dean asked as he followed Tatiana. The blond man in sparkly clothes was another fresh face. Cythia had also called him an inquisitor. A title like that didn't bode well to Dean at all.
"Readers, like you. They are my guests, here to enjoy my work," she said. "But don't worry, you're still special to me, Dean."
He felt his lips press tightly against each other.
"So they're reading your horrible stories for their own amusement?" he asked.
"Ohoh, does it bother you to have all your secrets and faults on full display?" Tatiana laughed.
Dean stayed silent. Did it bother him? It shouldn't have. After all, they were supposed to have nothing to do with him.
Tatiana raised an eyebrow.
"You really have changed, and so quickly too. I'll have to be careful from here on out, wouldn't want you rebelling and deciding you don't want to read anymore."
"That won't happen," Dean said quickly. "You know that as well as I do."
Tatiana laughed.
"That's right. We've got different goals, you and I, but at least our methods are the same, no? I want to punish you, and you want to be punished. There could be no stronger string tying us together."
Dean nodded. So what if there were things happening beyond his understanding? They had nothing to do with him, and while he was there. He would continue to read Tatiana's books, and that's all there was to it. Yet even as he resolved himself, the memories he had witnessed with Addi remained buzzing in the back of his head like an annoying fly.
The reason he had gone out walking had been to think about his stance on all this. He believed he had come to a conclusion, even with all the distractions.
He would read these stories and pay closer attention to the characters within them. Perhaps he would also find more motes of light that could shed more light on everything. If there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he needed to know more. He needed to know who exactly the people in the story were and to ensure they weren't the same as him. That they weren't people he had actually known once.
Only then would he decide what to do next.